Moon Music (21 page)

"Of course."

Again no one spoke. At that point, she gave up. Poe drove to her apartment, parked the car at the curb. To Rukmani's surprise, he got out and opened her door.

He said, "I'll walk you up."

Her first impulse was to say, "Not necessary." But she nodded instead. She fumbled for her key, then finally inserted it into the lock, looking plaintively into his eyes. "Come in, Rom. I'll make you some spicy Masala iced tea from Bengal."

Poe hesitated, then walked in, sinking into her pillowed couch. The room had been cooled by an air conditioner that droned more than it hummed. But her place was always full of light, pleasant and immaculately clean. She lived in a two-bedroom apartment filled with pastel colors—a pink-and-green-print couch, rose velvet chairs, ivory carpeting. The legs and frames of her coffee and end tables were dark mahogany intricately carved in the filigree patterns that typified Indian woodcarving. A carved ivory top was set into the coffee table, protected by panes of glass. The dining area was an open space off the living room and held a simple stone table with four chairs. The kitchen was diminutive but tidy, the cabinets finished in sparkling white lacquer. Poe stared at the pictures on her wall—multilimbed Indian gods and goddesses—as well as a couple of photographs of some rajah's palace. Several gilt animal/human statues had been placed between the medical tomes on her bookshelves.

Rukmani took off her glasses and said, "Tea'll just take a moment. Is it cool enough for you?"

"The temperature is fine. I'm not really thirsty right now. Have a seat."

Rukmani sat. "This sounds ominous."

"Not at all." Gently, he said, "It's been a hard week. I'm not making much headway on my cases, and my neurotic brother has been driving me crazy. I'm sorry if I've upset you."

"Likewise."

"In the future, however, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention the words 'Alison' and 'errand boy' in the same sentence."

"That was nasty of me. I'm sorry." A beat. "I just wish she'd—"
Cut your losses, Ruki
. "Never mind."

Poe tried to keep his voice even. "I know you think she's jerking my chain. And maybe you're right. But she's an old friend, Ruki. Her husband is a ninny without a clue. I can't desert her, because she has no one else. Her problems are usually cyclical. You'll see. She'll calm down."

"Yeah, when we stop seeing each other, I'm sure she'll be wonderful." Rukmani suddenly stood. "I'm getting tea for myself. Are you sure you don't want any?"

Slowly, Poe rose. Strolling over, slipping his arms around her waist. He pressed her back into his chest and said, "If Alison becomes a problem, she's history."

She turned to face him. "She already
is
a problem." A sigh. "Look, I understand the magnetic pull that the past can have. I'm not asking you to choose. Besides, your business is your business. If I don't want you meddling in my affairs, I shouldn't meddle in yours."

Poe dropped his hold on Rukmani. "I've got to go."

Again, Rukmani held his arm. "Why are you so pissed off? What do you
want
from me?"

"Ruki, it's one thing to look the other way and tolerate an occasional dalliance. But aren't you ever
bothered
by it?"

Rukmani stared at him. "Of course I'm bothered. I'm not a rock. I have feelings. But there's nothing I can do. So why sweat it?"

"It's
that
attitude that pisses me off. You're so casual about everything—life, death, sex, blow jobs. Like some Buddhist monk. It's all one grand illusion."

Her voice quivered. "So how should I act? Jealous? Snoopy? Distrusting? And what would you do if I started making demands? You'd be out the door in a minute."

"There's a big difference between raving jealousy and total apathy."

"On the contrary, it's a very fine line. You've got a fierce need for independence, Romulus. Look at how you live, where you live, the strange hours you keep, your longest relationship is with a woman who treats you like dirt. Which guarantees you complete failure with other women in the future. You don't want to be tied down to anyone or anything. Which really is the heart of this matter. Your mom is going to cramp your style. And you don't like your style cramped. Which is why I'm so damn
casual.
If I started getting pushy, you'd be long gone."

"What are you
talking
about?
I'm
the one who keeps telling you to name a date."

"In my book, that's
not
a serious marriage proposal." Rukmani imitated, "'Give me a date.' That's nothing but a carefully constructed cop-out meant to make you feel righteous."

"So
what
do you want? For me to get down on my knees?"

"It would be a start!"

"God, you're…imposs—" He started to kneel.

Rukmani held him back. "The answer's yes."

Poe stared at her, not truly believing what had just transpired. "Okay. So…everything's settled."

"Guess so."

Neither spoke. Then Poe said, "My house is kind of small…"

Rukmani sighed. "You know, it doesn't have to be right away. I know what that rattrap means to you." She began to stir ice into a tall pitcher filled with tea. "It's okay, Rom. We'll work on compromising later. For the time being, you keep your place, I'll keep mine."

Poe laughed nervously. "You're just as scared as I am."

She poured the tea into tumblers, then rubbed her forehead. "To me, marriage is equivalent to slavery."

"So why would you want to do it again?"

She stared at her tea glass, her eyes red and moist. "I like you."

Poe held back a smile. "I like you, too."

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "My parents aren't going to be happy. Neither will my kids like it. You're not Indian. At least, not the right type of Indian."

"Since when has race become an issue in your life?"

"Old ways die hard." She sipped tea, handed him a glass. "Ah, perfect!" Abruptly, she studied him intently. "You're lighter than I am—which is actually a plus. But you've got a lot of yellow in your skin tones."

"Blame it on Mom."

"Even so, with a few strategic applications of makeup, you could pass. If I cut your hair, teach you a few customs and a few words of Hindi…call you Siddartha…just maybe we could pull this off. I'll tell them that you're very acculturated."

"You are kidding, aren't you?"

She stroked his face. "It's all physical, you know. I'm totally enthralled with you sexually."

"Me?"

"My first husband was an old, ugly man. Sex with him was not only painful, but torturous. Rom, I see you, I see God—or what God meant sex to be." She sighed. "I shouldn't be telling you this. It'll just swell your head."

Poe turned serious. "As long as we're playing true confessions, I suppose I should tell you." He looked in her eyes. "I can't have children, Rukmani. I'm sterile."

Stunned, Rukmani stared back and said nothing.

Poe looked away. "I had these hormone treatments when I was a teenager. It resulted in some kind of weird adverse cellular reaction that basically fried my gonads. I didn't even know about it until I found out that Remus was sterile. Even so, his treatments were a lot more aggressive. So it really came as a shock."

Rukmani took his hands. "I'm so sorry."

Poe attempted a smile. "I've made peace with it. But if it's important to you…having more kids…"

"It's not a problem."

Again, Poe smiled weakly. "Great."

Rukmani held his face. "We always used birth control. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was embarrassed." He turned away. "I have a lot of…unusual habits. Flaws that are highly visible. Why add a hidden deficiency?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Rom, there is nothing deficient about you in any way, shape, or form."

Poe smiled, wiped her cheeks with his thumb, kissed her lips. "Is Hindi a hard language?"

Rukmani rocked her wrist back and forth.

Poe's beeper went off. He glanced at the number across the read-out. "Remus. What does he want this time?"

"Better than Alison."

"Moratorium on her, please?"

Rukmani gave him the peace sign. Poe punched up Remus's number on his cellular. "What's up?"

"Mom's missing!"

"
What?"

"I've just finished up with the airlines. It took me over two hours just to convince them I was legitimate. It appears that she bought a ticket that should have put her into Las Vegas around eleven this morning. Are you at work?"

"No, I'm at Ruk—"

"Can you check your house for me?"

There was
booze
in his house! Poe said, "I'm on my way."

"Rom, I feel terrible about this. Do you want me to come down?"

"Premature. I'll take care of it." He put his hand over the receiver. To Ruki, he said, "My mother's missing. I've got to go home—"

"I'll come with you."

Remus said, "Rom, I swear I've never yelled at that woman in my life. But today…she just got to me. God, if anything happened—"

"Nothing's going to happen."

"She thinks I've kicked her out of the house. I tried to explain that the move was just temporary."

"I'm going home right now."

"Romulus, you can't put her in an apartment. She'll see it as another rejection. She's too unstable—"

"I'll take care of it, Remus."

"You'll call me?"

"Just as soon as I know something."

"I'm sorry to dump all this in your lap."

"She's my mother, too."

"You've been terrific," Remus said with gratitude. "I'll never forget this, Rom."

A real hero
, Poe thought. "Go back to work, Remus. I'll call you as soon as I find her."

Rukmani handed him the keys to his car as she locked up her apartment. "Don't worry. We'll find her."

Poe rolled his eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of."

TWENTY

S
HE BURST
into tears as soon as Poe opened the door. "It's so nice of you to do this for me!" Wailing as she ran to him, she threw her chicken-bone arms around his neck.

Poe hugged her back, wrinkled his nose at her breath. Scanning the room, he saw the carpetbag resting on his couch, a plastic bag overflowing with comestibles on the counter next to his hotplate. Abutting the plastic bag was his flask of Dalwhinne, the booze a third down. He mouthed to Rukmani to put it away.

Out loud, he said, "Great to see you, Mom."

"My beautiful son," she sobbed out.

"Love you, too," Poe said.

Once she had been substantial—a thick woman with pendulous breasts. Over the last ten years, she had turned delicate, around one hundred ten pounds if that. She had been five-five, but age seemed to have pared off an inch. Saucer brown eyes dripping big globules of tears. Her face was thin, cheekbones jutting out like shelves. Her lips were cracked, her complexion was dry. Her skin tone, normally a shade or two darker than his, appeared wan. The simple hour airline trip had tired her. Wiping her eyes, she pulled away, observed him at arm's length. "I think you grew."

"I don't think so."

"Yes, you did. I swear, Romulus, you get taller and taller every time I see you."

No, Ma. You just get shorter
. "Really, I don't—"

"You're so beautiful." She turned to Rukmani. "Isn't he beautiful?"

"The best."

Mom smiled at Rukmani as if she finally realized who she was. "And how are you, dear?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Poe. How are you?"

"Oh, please call me Emma."

Poe extricated himself from his mother's grip, picked up her shot glass, the bottom tinged amber. "Sit down, Ma. Can I get you a soda?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I made myself a little drink. I was thirsty. I hope you don't mind."

Poe smiled, feeling a yoke tighten around his neck. "Mom, you're a little bit early—"

"Actually, I've been waiting here at least four hours." To Rukmani, she said
sotto voce
, "That's why I got so thirsty."

Poe said, "I meant you weren't supposed to come down for a couple of weeks."

Emma stiffened. "I had a fight with your brother. He said terrible things to me."

"I'm sure he didn't mean any—"

"I think this big project went to his head. Mr. Bigshot. Working all the time. Think he cares a fig for me?"

Poe tapped his forehead, pulled out his cellular. "As a matter of fact, he cares very much." He called up Remus's exchange. A moment later he was connected to his brother. "She's here. She's safe."

"Thank God!" Remus bellowed. "Let me talk to her."

"Sure you want to?"

"Put her on, Rom."

Poe gave the phone to his mother. "It's your bigshot son."

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Ma, don't be difficult."

Emma remained as still as stone.

Poe said, "Mom, if you're going to act like a baby—"

She grabbed the phone. "What do you want?"

Poe wagged his finger. "Be nice."

They started to talk in earnest. While they conversed, Poe took the opportunity to rinse her dirty glass with distilled water. Emma had also downed a couple of bottles of his Dos Equis. No sign that she had eaten anything solid.

Rukmani spoke in soothing tones. "What can I do?"

"Shoot me."

"Rom—"

"Go through my cooler. Remove all the beer and take it home with you. I've also got some canned tuna and a half loaf of rye bread. If you don't mind, could you make her a sandwich?"

Rukmani made a face as she rooted through the cooler. She pulled out the tuna. "You've also got some sliced mozzarella. Could I make a cheese sandwich instead?" She put the fish can to her ear. "I hear my ancestors talking to me."

Poe chuckled. "What evil deeds did they do on earth to regress to the state of Starkist?"

Rukmani spoke in a clipped Indian accent. "It is not our place to explain how Siva selects his souls for metempsychosis."

Poe laughed. "Meta
what
?"

Emma spoke up. "Romulus?"

Poe turned to face her. "Yeah, Ma?"